


Redamancy

by Nefinitplus



Category: Loki - Fandom, Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Feelings, Friends to Lovers, Gender-neutral Reader, Loki - Freeform, Loki/reader - Freeform, M/M, One Shot, Reader writes poems, Reader-Insert, oblivious loki, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 09:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19170145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nefinitplus/pseuds/Nefinitplus
Summary: You never really planned on doing anything with the poems except for hiding them, of course. Naturally, Loki finds them and contrary to how you feel, your poetry is just about the most important thing in the universe right now.





	Redamancy

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This came out of nowhere, but Loki is easy to write poetry about and I had a loose idea for a story so voila. I wrote it over the course of a few days some months ago so it's been gathering dust on my phone, but my friend read it recently and has convinced me to post by over-hyping it. I haven't shared a fic of mine in about three years and never on ao3 before either so I feel all brand new to this again. I hope you enjoy !

-  
Dark fickle berry  
you are out my reach  
what I would give  
for your tree to bend its knee  
-

Loki crushes the note in the palm of his hand. It is undoubtedly your handwriting. You have pressed lightly with your pen as if afraid your words will be read. He sits on the edge of his bed and takes a deep breath. Someone has captured your interest. Who? For how long? He reads the note again, then twice more. It could be anyone. It could be him. The thought makes his chest tighten. Maybe he'd just ask.

-  
Bitter unkind spirit  
please let me go  
I have words I would like to say  
to someone I know  
-

Loki puts the note back on your desk. You seem to be aiming for inconspicuous. The poems are handwritten on the notes you also use in your studies. It seemed funny to him that upon meeting aliens, you wanted to read more than anything. You asked about history starting from the big bang (or when Odin created Asgard), and you devoured information. Some evenings, he tells you the stories of the nine realms. He's not sure it will be the same when he knows you are thinking of someone else.

"You okay?" You ask.

Loki meets eyes with you suddenly, as if startled. He appears mentally engaged with something, and you are kind of thankful as you did just get out of the shower. He does not seem to be aware of the fact that you are only in a robe.

"I was wondering if you'd like to hear a story." He says simply.

You laugh, and his expression eases into something more familiar.

"Yes, Loki, I would, but maybe let me get dressed first?"

"I'm not stopping you, love." He says, still looking at your face and unable to resist a teasing smirk.

"Ha-Ha, see you in a minute." He lets you drag him to the door by the arm.

Once he's safely outside, you rush to your desk and shove the note in a random book. Had he seen it? You glance back at the closed door and prayed to the gods he'd told you about that he hadn't.  
When you are dressed, Loki sits with you by the fireplace to tell you the story of the lost sword. You listen carefully to his gentle voice until late, when you finally succumb to sleep. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and lays there until he falls asleep with you.

-  
Rotten head and heart  
where is your mercy  
our own interests do not touch  
the proud head of royalty  
wrap your tender feelings  
throw them far away  
there are just some things  
you should not say  
-

He finds this note in a book on your shelf after waking a mere hour later. His knees give and he rests his head against the wall pitifully. Is it Thor who has stolen your heart, or him? He tries to think of the last time you spoke to his brother. Probably whenever he is not looking, as to not arouse suspicion. Otherwise, you would just tell him of these feelings as you had in the past. His stomach turns sharply. Maybe it would be better to simply not know again.

Loki lifts you easily. He tucks you into your bed under the heavy comforter and wishes he trusted himself to stay beside you. Would he talk in his sleep? Call out your name and confess unwittingly? You talk in your sleep sometimes. Rarely anything intelligible, but murmurs and soft noises that are probably sentences in your dreams. He strokes your cheek once more before taking leave.

"Mm... Loki?" You say before he can fully pull away. He freezes.

"Yes?"

You turn away from him and pat the side of your bed hard with your sleep weighted hands.

"Stay." You order him.

You don't have to tell him twice, and he's sure you are asleep again anyway. Still, he hesitates before climbing under the covers next to you. You sleep soundly, unaware of your friend's distress. Loki lies on his back and stares at the ceiling until sunrise.

He begins to dread finding the next note as much as he eagerly anticipates it. You've been careless to place them around when you live so closely to Loki. Loki is a snoop, and he always has been. The right objects seem to just fall into his waiting hands. A book that opens a secret passageway, cursed amulets, enchanted knives, and now your notes. He is not surprised when he plucks one out from the book you are currently reading. It's been folded over to hide the text and used as a bookmark.

-  
Lying is a kind talent  
One master has the key  
Killing- honesty can be  
I am saving him from me  
-

Loki is officially addicted. A great storm brews in his chest that lashes violently and hungrily at his heart. It hurts but he aches for more. His present hunger cheats him in that instance, for he does not notice the hidden message that answers his desperate question. Loki's day has quickly become a hunt. He will gather all of the notes possible, and work out just who you are so interested in.  
-

Bite and bite  
take as you please  
send me to straight to hell  
I want to know those lips  
that conjure dark storms  
Bring  
-

This note he finds under the dryer, somehow having survived the wash, with the last line scribbled out thoroughly with dark ink. You must've thought it too obvious. He keeps looking.  
-

Allow me this one item  
its sweet undying taste  
I'm entitled to its misery  
to its reddened wet eyes  
to its lasting warmth  
to the green-eyed monster it brings  
allow me it's unholy divinity  
mind the intrusion that it does  
allow me this one item  
let it tear at me  
rip me seam by seam  
allow me the joy of  
Love's misery  
its a two-man dance  
but any lone soul can learn to waltz it  
grip the air tenderly  
feel it grip you back  
one step forward, halt, one step back  
-

This he found under a snow globe on your bookshelf. His pile of notes is culminating rather nicely, but each triumphant find spawns equal levels of frustration.

-  
He is bright and dark and hungry  
cold and wet and kind  
he's a burning storm of flame  
He will never be all mine  
-

You are usually indifferent to his sudden moods. If he wants to talk about it he will. Experience has shown you its best to let him cool down first. To you, he's been popping in and out of rooms as he so pleases hastily. You'd rather not interfere when he is focused, but it begins to concern you when he enters the room looking withdrawn. His previous excitement has evaporated into weary mental exhaustion that you can see he is trying to hide.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" You ask conversationally.

"Of course." He says in a way that un-eases you.

You narrow your eyes as you inspect him. He's being stiff and it, in turn, makes you stiffen too. You try to think of what could've gone wrong in the last four hours. Nothing in particular, except maybe if he'd found a note…

"I think you should tell him, for what it's worth. The fool would not notice if he read your poems himself." Loki chortles darkly.

You, in turn, blanch.

"What?"

He preens while you poorly hide your distress.

"Confess to Thor on game night, before his next departure. I believe he's off to visit Muspelheim, to make some tremendous mess I'm sure-"

"-Loki, what are you talking about?"

A dangerous grin spreads across his face.

"Your love letters to my brother, keep up, dear." A pale green light flashes, and he waves about a stack of various papers.

You have imagined this moment differently each time. In the worst fantasies, Loki leaves your life because he doesn't return your feelings. In others, he'd laugh and mock you. In the very best ones, he'd kissed you. Excuse you, if you weren't expecting his real reaction to be complete and utter obliviousness. You are quiet for a long moment, and in that time Loki grows darker and taller and meaner and more bitterly pleased with every second.

"What made you think they're for Thor?" You whisper.

"Darling, how often can you describe someone as storm like or storm-conjuring? Anyone would know." He says teasingly.

"Let me see them please." You request.

Loki hands you the papers, smiling smugly. You shuffle through them with shaking hands. They are your poems alright. Handwritten with actual love. Your face burns, but you stop on one page and put it on top of the pile. You lick your lips before reading it aloud.

"You crack like an old book  
filled to the brim with secrets  
a whisper follows you in the night  
two ravens sit by candlelight  
he is a gift, one says  
a foe, the other croaks  
a king, they say together  
you take them by the feather  
I am swift, you say,  
a sly jester who is much too clever  
but I am no king  
I am just the thing  
he rightfully thought to fear."

Loki doesn't remember seeing that one but he doesn't budge.

"A poem for Thor's banishment to Earth, all very touching."

You frown and flip through the papers again. The next poem you read he remembers.

 

"Bite and bite  
take as you please  
send me to straight to hell  
I want to know those lips  
that conjure dark storms  
Bring me into the ash and flame  
share with me your fury  
burn me gold and green." You stroke the inky blot where the words once were.

Loki isn't looking very smug anymore. You haven't noticed. If you look at him now you know you'll stop reading. You lick your dry lips tentatively.

"Lying is a kind talent. One master has the key. Killing- honesty can be. I am saving him from me. Lying... lying, one, killing, I. L-O-K-I." You say tentatively.

When you do look up at the aforementioned your stomach turns all kinds of ways. Hope and fear twist lovingly inside of you. He clearly does not know what to say, and the tenseness of his body tells you he does not know what to do either. He'd been wrong, very wrong. And more than that, he's been oblivious to every tender look you've sent his way and all the times you chose to be around him above anyone else.

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way, Loki... it's okay though. I'm not angry with you or anything. Just, um, here? Keep them, or throw them out, it's up to you." You hand him the pile he had so diligently gathered.

He does not take them which simultaneously sends a chill through your heart and makes your face burn. His eyes are fixed on nothing but his own mind as he tries to comprehend your now changing relationship. You touch his shoulder gently, not looking at him and mumbling another apology. You can't stay to explain yourself. You can't look at him now that he knows.

But you can't go either because he's pulling you into an embrace so suddenly that you gasp. His left arm settles over your shoulders and his other wraps around your waist, nearly making your feet dangle off the floor with how closely he's holding you.

"Loki? Are you okay?"

When he pulls back from you his eyes are dark and his jaw is tight.

"No." He says searingly, leaning down to kiss you.

Your teeth clack a bit but he doesn't seem to notice, instead leaning into you even more and pressing his lips hard onto yours. He nibbles on your bottom lip until your mouth parts enough for him to slip his tongue in. The sound he makes, a soft depraved groan, should be illegal. Loki does not pull away for a long time, but when he finally does it is to kiss the corner of your flushed lips and along your jawline. He makes no move to back away, and you realize you're gripping his shirt for dear life. He presses his forehead to yours and closes his hand around yours.

"You have no idea how I've longed for you,"

"I'd say ditto but I think you do have an idea." You say, too dazed to laugh.

You're head is still spinning from not just the suddenness of the moment, but its very existence. Loki is so close you can feel his heart beating and he's looking at you like nothing else matters, or even exists. Your chest feels so warm, so heavy that you just lean into him and try to catch your breath. He barely gives you a second before he's stealing another kiss just as heated and fervent as the last.

"You are intoxicating," He says between kisses.

"You make me so pliable, so vulnerable, you and only you." He murmurs against your mouth.

"Have you any idea of how tormented I have been? Wanting nothing more than to have you as I do now?" He strokes your now swollen lips with his thumb.

"Are you writing me a poem, Loki? You have me now, I assure you." You say, cheeks hot, but still unable to resist teasing him.

You kiss him this time, gently but he leans in desperately for more, more of you. You're cupping one of his striking cheekbones and keeping balance with your other hand on his shoulder. He leans into your touch with an appreciative sigh and a sly smile spreads across his face.

"It's only fair seeing how much poetry you have dedicated to me, darling."

Okay, you walked into that.

"I guess you'll have to make it up to me." You poke his chest.

"It is done. And I do have you, my love, but in our time together going onward, I will show you exactly how much you have me. I swear it."

Loki's sly smile turns into that dangerous grin when you smile. He's looking at you like the cat who got the cream, and well, you're the cream. A surprised noise leaves you when he sweeps you off your feet and pulls you in for another hungry kiss, a laugh escaping him at your sound.

"I have you," You tell him.

He holds you even closer, and your heart clenches. He agrees with you every time he strokes your skin when he looks at you like there's nothing else, when you kiss, and in every sound you coax from him.

"And I you," He murmurs.


End file.
